The Godmother
by Twizzler-17
Summary: The untold story of Harry's godmother - her hardships growing up, her relationships with Harry's parents, her qualms with her relationship with Harry once he joins the wizarding world and her ultimate role or lack thereof in his life. Rated T for now.
1. Prolouge

**A/N:** I've always been intrigued by the story of Harry's Godmother. Yes, I know JKR said he didn't have one, but, creative liberties, right?

This is just a prolouge to set up our lovely protagonist. Read and review!

(_DISCLAIMER_ - There are so many questions I would ask JK Rowling if I met her, these characters and this world is not mine, but I sure wish I could be as talented as she was to do so. Question 1: Why a lightning scar? Any significance?)

The Godmother

Prolouge: Cutting at the Hips and the Heart

It was nearly a year since the War had ended. Harry was sitting in the grassy area behind the Burrow when a small, sealed letter fell gracefully into his lap.

He usually chucked aside pieces of mail unless he knew the sender, working through piles of fan mail every month or so. This letter, for whatever reason, caught his interest. He opened the seal and read. He read slowly at first, uninterested in the subject matter. However, as his mind began to process, he began to read quicker and quicker, his eyes darting from one line to the next.

Words, names, places – they all flew past him as he rapidly re-read the letter a second and third time. Instead of soaking in the information, he was narrowing on one phrase that kept ringing in his head. No matter how much he concentrated on the rest of letter, his eyes gravitated towards that one phrase:

_**Your Godmother**_

* * *

Overcome by what she was sure was heatstroke, nine-year-old Saraswati Bhamra lay patiently on her four poster bed, feet barely dangling over the edge, as she contemplated what would be worse – dying in a heap from the unbearable summer heat or attending her parents' dinner party that was commencing downstairs.

Heatstroke wasn't looking too bad at the moment.

Sara wasn't so much opposed to the hundreds of guests or the mountains of food that came with one of her parents' dinner parties; in fact, the food was perhaps the redeeming factor. She had snuck a peak into the kitchen the past few days and had nearly salivated at the aromas and sights she encountered as her mother and her _nani_, or her grandmother, instructed the cooking staff as they prepared a small feast – her mouth was salivating at just the thought of it. The worst part of her parents' dinner parties was the dress.

Sara hadn't had the heart to tell her mom when they were shopping six months ago for a new dress that the one her mom had liked the most dug into her sides a bit at the waist and were a bit tight around the arms (but not to the point of cutting off circulation). She simply smiled and nodded her head in agreement to her mom's compliments, hoping it could be shoved to the back of her closet until she had the right dimensions to wear it with pride. But then again, Sara hadn't counted on the joys of a full Christmas and Easter dinner as they visited friends on the holidays, which certainly didn't help the dress-fitting situation. She couldn't disappoint her mother though, so she twisted, shimmed and did all but a backbend to worm her way into a dress that was now even tighter than she had remembered before.

Looking in the mirror, all Sara could see was the fat that rested on what seemed like every part of her body – her cheeks, her forearms, her neck, her fingers, her waist, her things, and her calves – everything. She scrunched up her nose a bit, thinning the slits for her eyes, knowing that her mother would probably be appalled that Sara hadn't mentioned the 'ill-fitting' of the dress earlier that day when she had asked her to wear it that night. Backed into a corner by her timidity, Sara sighed and headed down the grand staircase.

It wasn't a castle, but Sara's house was definitely spacious. When she was little, more often she would lose her way to her own bedroom than find it on the first try. She knew it was a special event when her parents managed to make the house feel even half-way filled – which was tonight. Saraswati hardly ate in their grand dining room, but for her parents' dinner parties, it merited the occasion. It was a long, narrower room that came off one side of the kitchen, with a table to match its length and glass chandeliers. She could feel her mom's eyes rest heavily on her as she took her seat across from her mother and father and next to her younger sister, Rani, who was 7 years-old. Her younger brother, Prakash, who was only two, had gone to sleep hours before. She reached out to pick up her fork, prematurely, to hold something in her hand, but retracted her arm upon a stern glance from her mother. All she could do was sit idly and listen to her mother gossip with her good friends, Mrs. Patil and Mrs. Longbottom.

"So, just two more years for _little_ Sara before Hogwarts, right?" Mrs. Longbottom asked Saraswati's mom, running her judgmental eyes down and up her over-packed frame. "Frank just loves it. Only his second year and already he doesn't want to come home for Christmas holidays. I have to pull teeth as it is with Algie."

"How is Frank adjusting without Algie in the same House and such?" Mrs. Patil inquired. Saraswati sighed heavily to cover up her stomach's loud growl. She looked hopefully to the door connecting the grand dining room to the kitchen, hoping to hone her witchcraft skill to make it magically open. She was unsuccessful.

"Oh, you know Frank! He was always quite loud and boisterous, never too afraid to assert his position. Sometimes he caused a ruckus in the neighborhood and such, but always maintained his friends. It was no surprise that he ended up in Gryffindor, though I would have hoped, of course, that he could have followed our line into Hufflepuff. He's quite brave, you know, always willing to stick up for others. But Algie still looks after him and whatnot, and Frank has settled in fine in Gryffindor." Mrs. Longbottom, tired but proud after her long-winded praise of her younger son, took a sip of her mead wine.

"I can't imagine Raj in another house but Ravenclaw. Everyone one in our family since we came to England has been placed in that house. I suppose we will see next year, but I have little doubts," Mrs. Patil said.

"I cannot see Saraswati in any other house, considering myself and Vikram both came from Ravenclaw. Perhaps not Slytherin, as she is not so quick-witted or cunning, simply book smart. I reckon Hufflepuff might be a suitable House – you see, she is always looking to others for guidance and advice. She would work well within a team…" Saraswati's mom continued to chatter to her friends as Saraswati sank lower into her seat. It was not unusual for her mother to take small jabs at Saraswati while she was in earshot. Saraswati had convinced herself that her mother considered it character building, as subtle hints to her first daughter's many imperfections. "…Definitely not Gryffindor, though. She gets scared at even the thought of a spider in her bathroom; she has to call Rani in to make sure it's gone. Bravery is not her suite."

"Well, less than two years, Jaya, until Sara has to deal with the spiders at Hogwarts instead of here – brave or not," Mrs. Patil, laughing disingenuously. Sara wished the food could come so she could tune out the next part of the conversation, which she knew was inevitably coming.

"And a busy two years it will be! We were hoping that Saraswati would lose her baby fat and lighten up by now, but I suppose she has a bit more time. Just look at her compared to Rani – Rani is so thin and her skin is so fine. It seems we'll require some outside effort. Vikram and I have been raiding the shelves at Mungo's, trying to find some slimming spell or potion. Can you believe that I bought that dress for Saraswati 6 months ago and it was loose-fitting? Now, she can barely squeeze into it. Rani, on the other hand, got that beautiful red dress from my mother when she came from India just…"

Saraswati lost interest in the conversation. She realized it was almost inevitable to avoid the comparison when they sat next to one another. She, however, couldn't stand to listen to her mother rehash her "baby-fat" problem and how Rani, her younger sister, was not only more beautiful and 'ideal', but more witty and brave. Rani would be a Ravenclaw, no doubt in her mother's or her father's mind. Saraswati felt like sinking in her seat, but knew that her mother would snap at her to 'sit-up straight' and to 'act like the oldest'.

Food came to comfort Saraswati. Her mother, despite their large household, detested house elves, and had Sara's grandmother aid in bringing out the food. Then, Sara began to say the various dishes she wanted, and they would pick themselves up and zoom over to her plate and provide a small portion before flying off to the next guest who wanted the dish. She rattled off the first 10 dishes she saw, encouraged hefty portions, and shoveled the food into her mouth.

"It's so hard to find clothes in her size these days – we search and search for something that will even fit around her waist, forget about being fashionable…" _Chomp, chomp, chomp._

"Rani gets so many compliments on her beautiful complexion – if only Sara would stay out of the sun like her…" _Munch….munch….munch._

"Sara seems to have her head in the books. She can read anything, but I'm afraid one day she'll just walk right into a Death Eater from having her head so far off into nothing. No common sense, I'm afraid. Rani, on the other hand…."

Sara licked her now wet and salty lips, hoping her mother wouldn't notice her tear-stricken face as she helped herself to yet another piece of chocolate cake.


	2. Without a Paddle

Chapter Two: Without a Paddle

If there was something she could wish for on her 11th birthday, Sara would wish that she wouldn't drown.

It was August 31st – the last day Sara would be 10 and the last day she would be just a young witch and not a Hogwarts student. Her toes were hanging off the edge of the gigantic pool that was in her backyard. She had been standing there for what seemed like hours. She had watched her mother walk her brother through a portion of the gardens, still holding his six-year-old hand as an act of guidance. She had seen her sister come out, book in hand with the sincerest of intentions to read some, lay in the open grass while lazily flipping through pages, give up and head inside out of the soon. She had witnessed her dad, who had come home right as her mother had left for work at St. Mungo's, talk to their gardener about properly trimming the grass on the practice Quidditch pitch. All in good time, her family had come and gone, knowing that while she stood on the cusp of jumping into the clear pool water, Sara would never have the guts to actually take the dive.

_Aquaphobia_.

Sara had looked it up one day in a book in her parent's library, curious to see if others experienced the same aversion to water that she did. She wasn't sure exactly when it had started. The days when she would happily bound around the shallow part of the pool, thrashing her arms about as her _nani_ would hold her sister, Rani, gently at the edge of the pool were a distant memory, but a memory nonetheless. Now, even the thought of letting her toe graze the top of the water set her hair on end.

She couldn't even see her toes, she realized, as she looked down at her protruding stomach that blocked the view of her feet that hung off the edge of the pool side. Much to her mother's (very vocal) chagrin, Sara had grown proportionally, horizontally, as her years progressed. At one point, before she had turned nine, her mother had the kitchen locked at all times so Sara couldn't sneak away food. Her mother soon realized that, between her husband and her own mother, _nani_, food was making it to her all the same and lifted the ban. Sara could see her resignation in her eyes whenever she briefly saw her mother – the fleeting moments when she wasn't sleeping or at work at St. Mungo's with her father – that she would be the fat, average-looking daughter. Sara wouldn't inherit or come into her sharp, distinctive and yet attractive features; that would fall to Rani, who was, as far as Sara could see, the picture of perfection.

She felt like a failure. But every time she heard a hallowed whisper shared between her parents about buying even bigger, looser clothes or saw her mother's piercing eyes as she took another helping at dinner, it was just fuel. She felt like the chewing could drown out her obvious discontent. She didn't care for the irony.

And now, all she could picture when she looked at the pool before her was her fat, overweight body sinking to the bottom of the pool. There was no one around. She was sure her father had passed out on their couch after coming home from work. Her mother was probably still at St. Mungo's, leaving her three children to the care of their _nani_, knowing very well that their father would be too exhausted to be of much help. She was sure Rani was trying on clothes and staring at herself in the mirror (she had caught her in her room once) and Prakash was about a fifth of her size and couldn't swim himself – he would be of no help, proximity excluded. If she was going to jump in, she was going to have to fend for herself. Swim, or else sink to the bottom.

She gulped at just the thought.

Normally, she wouldn't have bothered. But, at the beginning of her last summer before she would be attending Hogwarts in the fall, her father had pulled her aside. A tawny owl had come just a few days earlier, as her parents knew it would, carrying her letter, signed from Albus Dumbledore. He hadn't been the Headmaster while her parents were in school, but they knew him well enough, mostly from his work with dragon's blood that was the talk of St. Mungo's for months after the publication. Her mother had already set aside a day where she would take off from work and take her to get her robes and her books – everything brand new. The thought of it would normally get her excited – but then there was the business of actually arriving at Hogwarts.

"…In actual boats on an actual LAKE?" Sara's incredulous reaction was extreme, but not altogether unexpected. Her dad had let her crawl up into his lap, as much as she could, considering she was still a bit big for her 10 years, and was explaining the 'technicalities', as he so lightly put it, of getting to the castle.

"Yes, but they're enchanted, so you don't have to do anything. You just sit in the boat and let it chug along and you get to see the castle for the first time."

"But what if something happens? What if the Giant Squid decides it's hungry and wants our boat for a snack?"

"It won't – I promise, Saraswati. Trust me, for hundreds of years, first years have crossed the lake under the supervision of the gamekeeper and nobody has died…at least, I don't think anyone has died."

"You don't THINK anyone has died?" Probably not the best time to admit his uncertainty.

"You'll be fine, _beta_. I promise – once you get there, you'll be so mesmerized by the sight of Hogwarts for the first time that you won't even be thinking about crossing the lake. It'll be over before you even realize you're on the lake."

Sara believed her father, but she didn't want to take any chances. No matter his reassurance, Sara figured there was at least a 1% chance that somehow, she'd end up in the lake, treading water to save her life.

The object, besides keeping her head above water, was to move in the general direction of help. She figured if she did end up falling in the middle of the lake (the thought made her hairs stick up on the back of her neck), she probably wouldn't make it to shore, but at least some poor first year in an upright boat might take some pity on her and help her out before she passed out – which is how she ended up standing at the edge of the pool on August 31st, eyeing the clear water that revealed the tiled floor on the pool so clearly.

Well, it was now or never.

Sara had grown quite accustomed to tuning her mother out, especially when she started yelling. Though shrill and loud, Sara managed to turn her mother's disciplinary tones into background noise. She considered it a talent, honestly, and a necessity. Sara tripped over the edge of the carpet and smashed the lamp – cue yelling. Sara couldn't hear her yelling for some help in the kitchen in their ginormous house – cue yelling. Sara passed the plate of potatoes around the table to the wrong direction – cue yelling. Try as she might, she resigned herself to the fact that she could never really please her mother, so she ignored the yelling. She knew the tripping, the miscommunication, the small mistakes – they were all unintentional, and frankly, it was a little unfair that she would get berated for them – but she learned to tune them out.

But she probably deserved this lecture.

"Did you hit your head or something, or have you always been this dense? You could have drowned! You could have died!"

Funny, I thought drowning entailed dying.

"You know you can't swim – what were you thinking jumping into the pool in the first place, let alone without someone there to supervise you. Goodness, Saraswati…"

When her mom used her full name, and not something like _beta_ or Sara, she knew it was time to tune her out – it was when she starting edging off reason and started making less sense.

"How am I supposed to feel comfortable sending you off to Hogwarts by yourself if you can't make adult decisions? I'm not going to be there to monitor your every move, Saraswati, you know that…."

The train ride was pleasant enough. Only her dad had been able to take off work (which, even as a newly-minted 11 year old, Sara knew meant that her mother couldn't be bothered to come), so he had begrudgingly taken both Sara and Rani to Platform 9 ¾ the next morning. Her mother, still upset from the pool incident the day before (which honestly, wasn't that big of deal because she was pretty sure she was only underwater for like, a minute, before Rani had meandered outside and seen her floundering and had gone to get help – it's not like she was actually dying or anything), barely said anything to her at breakfast besides a meek 'Happy birthday' before leaving for her work.

Sara had said her goodbye to Prakash at home. Her father didn't feel comfortable bringing him along in case of an emergency, especially since he was the only parent there. Sara wouldn't admit it to anyone (though she doubted any of them would ask or even care), but she was going to miss her six-year old brother the most.

She knew her parents worried about him – she thought it was silly, honestly. She heard them arguing a lot lately, so she snuck into the library one day and read up on the snippets of the arguments she heard. He was six and barely showing signs of any magical ability. At least according to her parents, Sara had been enchanting her toys to at least dance and flop around since she was four – Rani since she was three. She read about Squibs, which she heard her mom whisper in a frantic tone once, but she didn't think that was it much. She almost wanted to show her parents one book from _their own_ collection that said magical capability doesn't always manifest itself until the witch or wizard in question has reached at least 10 years of age. But she probably thought it best that she didn't – it would cause them to ask her why she was reading about it in the first place, which would expose her eavesdropping ventures – cue another bout of yelling from her mother.

It didn't feel much like her birthday – she wasn't getting a cake. She was getting presents, but it was later, when she was away from her family. She had promised her father that she wouldn't look at the gifts that her _nani_ had wrapped for her and placed in the bottom of her trunk. Perhaps, most disappointing of all, she wouldn't get the feast that normally came with her birthday. It was the one day of the year that she didn't feel guilty taking seconds or thirds, and her mother probably didn't either.

Her father wished her well and helped her load her trunk into an empty compartment. He wasn't big on hugs – neither of her parents really were – so that was it for their farewell. She had hurriedly said goodbye to Rani, who suddenly needed to use the toilet as she was leaving.

So were her goodbyes to her family. She came out as the train was leaving, searching for her dad or sister's face amongst the sea of smiling yet teary faces only to see the back of their heads as they beat the rush out of the platform.

A few other first-year girls sat with her. She didn't know them at all and honestly forgot their names by the time the train arrived at Hogsmeade. They were all very chatty – discussing how good they were with their wands already and how fashionable their robes were. Sara chimed in when the topic came to Houses, simply remarking that her entire family had been in Ravenclaw and she didn't see herself being any different. She didn't really hear much about the other Houses at home, but reckoned she probably should be in Ravenclaw anyway. If she weren't, her mom would turn it into just another thing to yell about, and she'd rather not sit through a Howler during her first week here.

Thinking of the other Houses, Sara strained to think of a reason why she would fit in in any of them – cunningness, bravery, loyalty, wit were hardly the things that one would think of to describe her and one would strain to even place her into a category if prompted. She was, as she had read once in her mother's book, a 'jack of all trades, master of none.' She fancied herself a reader, however, and she felt she could most easily pretend in Ravenclaw, among those who are truly witty.

She put on her robes when the other girls did, and headed off the train as instructed by her father. She was breathing heavier, unconsciously, knowing what was coming. A large man, whom Sara thought could be an actual giant but had never seen one in person to be sure, led the first years with a lantern away from the other students. She fell into place in the line, separating herself from the giggly girls she had been sitting with. She was behind a small boy (at least in comparison to her) with mousy brown hair and in front of a group of rowdy boys. Well, two rowdy boys and one pudgy boy who beamed just to be associated with anyone else but didn't quite fit in.

Once they reached the water's edge, they stepped onto the dock in groups of four. She was really hoping she would group up with the mousy-haired, skinny boy, but, as the numbering turned out, she was in a group of four with the boys behind her. She gave the giant a small smile, trying really hard to conceal her fear, as she stepped gingerly into the boat.

"God, hurry up, will you? Afraid of some water, are we?" She could hear from behind her. She just closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and shuffled to the front of the small boat (which, she was starting to fear, didn't look big enough for the four of them) to make room for the boys. Without abandon, they sauntered into the boat, each slight rock giving her chills. She could really just keep her eyes closed the entire time, right? She made the mistake of looking at the lake that expanded in front of them that led to the magnificent castle that she had only seen in drawings before. But that lake – yes, she would be keeping her eyes closed.

The giant was in a boat all by himself near the back. Sara's boat was near the outer edge on the right. The boats were chugging along and, as much as she wanted to, Sara didn't peek to see how much further they had to go. The boys were making a ruckus behind her, whispering and rocking the boat. Finally she had to turn around and tell them off.

"Knock it off, sods. You're rocking the boat." She could almost feel the water breeching over the side.

"Oh, someone afraid? Don't worry, the boats are unsinkable – that's what I heard on the train," said one of the not-pudgy boys. He had dark hair, but they both did. It was hard to tell the difference between them when they were only lit by the vague light of the lantern.

"Unsinkable? Nah, what about the giant squid? A boat would just be a mouthful for him – he could sink this boat with just a flick," the other boy made a gesture with his hand, "of his tentacle."

A giant squid? Her father had failed to mention a giant squid. This was not good.

"I reckon we could probably see the giant squid, though, if it were going to attack us." One of the boys leaned suddenly to the side, as if on the look-out. The boat tipped fiercely, splashing water over the side. "Hey, look…."

Before Sara could even open her mouth to warn them to not move too quickly, the other two boys leant eagerly to the side, causing their boat to capsize.

Sara really wished she wouldn't have to drown on her 11th birthday.

She was going to kill them. All three of them. She would get expelled, that would be sure, and, thinking about the logistics, she didn't really know how she would go about it really, but she wanted to kill them.

It was because of their pig-headed lack of mere common sense that she was sitting in a damp towel, clothes and hair soaked right before their sorting ceremony. The giant said he didn't have a wand and "couldn't do 'nuhthing until Professor McGonagall came 'round," so she sat, wet. They had been organized into alphabetical order: while the two of the boys had names way down the alphabet, luck would have placed one right next to her, so he was the one to feel her wrath.

Her very quiet, subdued, more-silent-treatment-then-actual-anger wrath.

He looked apologetic, at the very least. She guesses she could thank him, but in the frantic mess of the situation, she couldn't even know for sure it was him that pulled her to the surface, and she didn't want to give undeserved praise, especially to a pig-head like him.

She had to admit, now that she could see him in proper light, he was kind of cute. His damp hair clung to his forehead in a neat way, the water droplets running down his fair and, well, cute face. He was pretty fit, not fat like she was, and had a decent smile, which had, for some odd reason, had crept onto his face.

"What are you smiling about?" Sara tried hard to sound stern and agitated, but it was a cute smile.

"I was just thinking about the giant squid….I mean, if I had to die today, getting eaten by a giant squid would be a pretty cool way to go, don't you think?" Typical boy, Sara thought. She'd rather not die, ever, by being a giant squid's snack, no matter how 'cool' it was.

"I hardly think dying is cool, especially on our first day." Sara hissed.

"Sorry." He said, kind of shrugging. Maybe he was the one who had said to look, or maybe he was the one who had swam away as she slowly sank under the surface – maybe that's why he was apologizing. Or maybe for the squid comment. Whichever – she wasn't going to accept it. She was furious and wanted him to know it.

"I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black." He extended his hand, and she figured it would be rude of her to not introduce herself, even though she had already vowed to murder him.

"Sara Bhamra."

"Sara? That's pretty." Sara, who had been overweight and pudgy nearly her entire life, had never associated the word 'pretty' with herself. Never.

"It's a nickname." Fine, so she was throwing him a bone. Talking at least was keeping her mind off of being cold.

"Nickname for what?"

But before she could answer, a stern looking lady came into hallway, ushering them into the Great Hall, but not before gasping at her four soaking students and muttering an incantation to dry them while yelling at the giant.

In the wake of her near-death experience, Sara had almost forgotten her anxiety over her house selection. A few people went before her, allowing Sara to really take in the magnitude of people in front of her. Each House was seated at one of four long tables, with a few places in the front of each left empty. One of them would be for her. She eyed one of the empty seats at the Ravenclaw table, mentally making note of how she would walk over as to avoid any embarrassing trips or stumbles.

When her name was called, she took a deep breath and sat down on the stool as the stern looking lady placed the Sorting Hat on her head. It had been silent while she had watched the others, but suddenly, a voice filled her head.

_Now, where to put you? I can see, it's in your blood….boiling Ravenclaw almost. But are the witty really where you belong. This will be tough….at least, tougher than it has been_.

Her mind just went back to the lake, gulping for air and splashing her arms fiercely as she kicked for the surface. Near-death experience, for sure, but she was glad to have made it through so she could actually attend Hogwarts and not just be the tragic, didactic legend parents told their kids who refused to learn to swim…"There once was a girl, a fat girl, who didn't know how to swim. And when she first came to Hogwarts, she drowned and never made it in. Now, go on into the water now."

_Interesting story, Ms. Bhamra….Sara. I think that makes the decision that much easier. Better be:_

GRYFFINDOR!

The Hall erupted into applause, especially the red-and-gold-clad, happy for their new addition, but to Sara, it was silent.

She wasn't in Ravenclaw. She was in Gryffindor.

She wasn't in Ravenclaw, but Gryffindor.

She wasn't in Ravenclaw.

Well, shoot.

"We are talking to the Headmaster this instant."

"There HAS to be some sort of mistake," her mother said, hysterically, as she pulled Sara by her wrist and followed her father down the hall to the Headmaster's office.

Sara had sent word of her House selection after indulging (quite happily) in the plentiful feast. The reaction was almost instantaneous. Her parents, one of whom hadn't been bothered just earlier that day to even drop her off at the train and the other who had run like a river after dropping her off, had shown up to Hogwarts just an hour later and had insisted on taking her to the Headmaster to 'switch things'. Sara wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but what she gathered, she felt like the House placements were pretty permanent. Not that she'd mind being switched around – the boys who had capsized her boat had all ended up in Gryffindor as well - 'brave' little twats, most of them couldn't be bothered to help her when she was about to drown.

She wordlessly followed her mother and father down the corridors and they marched to the Headmaster's office. Sara silently thought to herself, 'I don't know why they're yelling at me…not like it's my fault!' She pushed away the last words she had heard the Sorting Hat say, making herself believe that it was solely his decision. Pointing this out to her parents, though, would not be helpful, so she just kept to herself.

Rounding the corner, she saw a small boy sitting on a bench placed outside of a spiraling staircase that she could only assume led to the Headmaster's office. Great, she thought, it wasn't even the end of the first day and she would already be acquainted with the Headmaster. That sort of treatment was for the exceptionally bright or the delinquent. The small boy, she realized, was the same, good-looking boy who had introduced himself earlier – Sirius, was it? He was sitting with his face down, swinging his legs back and forth.

Coming down the stairs, she heard voices – one argumentative, the other calm. Sara could only assume the woman was Sirius' mother and the other, older man with a long silver beard and half-mooned spectacles was the Headmaster. She didn't know his name, but, my, was he an imposing person. Tall and slender, he reasoned with such a composed tone. Before turning to recognize her parents, he said one last thing to the mother, who was clearly unhappy with the result of the conversation.

"The only thing I can say, Mrs. Black, is that often the Sorting Hat can see beyond what parents, friends, even the kids themselves see – I can only say, that in my time here at Hogwarts, never have I felt a student has been misplaced in a House. Your son inhabits a certain undiscovered courage and determination that the Hat was able to see above all else. I think he will be happy in Gryffindor. However, if you feel like, after his time here, that he would have grown more in Slytherin, please inform me of your discontent. I would be more than happy to have an exception-to-the-rule story for future generations."

The finality of his last word caused Sirius' mother to turn on her heels and leave in a huff. She barely acknowledged the boy as she walked by, muttering his name but nothing else. He sat motionless for a few seconds on the bench, looking after his mother's retreating figure, before the Headmaster said, "You ought to run along, Sirius. You've had a long day. One of your prefects will be able to guide you to your dormitories."

Without so much of a look back at Sara, Sirius left, trotting wordlessly after a mother who cared, but clearly not for him.


End file.
